Quick Relief
by Dearest Shay
Summary: We all need it sometimes. Rated M.


**A/N: Just a quickie. Picking the pen up again.**

* * *

 _ **Quick Relief**_

I want to be free tonight.

I want to be lost in a sea of bodies. To feel the warmth of a faceless mass. To be free.

Crossing the threshold is like stepping into a new world. The air is mustier. Thicker. There is no end to the amount of mischief I can find myself in. A low fog caresses my ankles, dimming the lit dance floor, distorts the strobing and flickering white lights that pulse to the bass that plays around us all.

I sidestep the grinning masks. No one here is who they are on the outside, and that comforts me. Livens me. We're all here to escape. We're finding shelter in the storm.

No sooner have I reached the bar do I feel that searing heat hit my back. The burning of eyes. It spreads like dripping fire, coursing through my hands, my belly, my thighs. Flush, I order just a water with lemon. And as I sip it my sight darts right to him.

He is the embodiment of escape.

Watching me with eyes that miss nothing he is an imposing figure. He commands the space he is in. Anything caught into his gravity is owned by him. I am ready to escape the prison currently holding me to be captured by his. The water is pounded down and I'm moving.

His stormy gaze never leaves me as I climb the stairwell to reach him. And the second I am within his pull he takes my free hand. The bodies part simply by him stepping through them, and I feel their knowing smiles. The cocktail of lust and envy they emanate well within me, settling deep in my womb and only swelling to bottomless once we reach the third floor-theatre, the club command center.

Behind the one-way of curved glass was that undulating mass. Only black and white. No faces, no names, no shame. I was three floors up, seeing 100 people combined to one. And still only one other mattered.

The click of the door faintly registered in the back of my head. The quick, purposed steps approaching me however, had me turning in an instant. I hadn't been able to fully face him before his lips were on mine. His body engulfed me, those hot hands mapping out their path over the sides of my breasts, over my hips, cupping under my ass and drawing me further in.

When he has me flush against him, one hand fastens my head for his onslaught, his tongue slipping easily into my mouth and licking around my lips, languishing my tongue, reaming the crevice and marking it as his.

Although I am clumsy in unbuttoning my front, he is deft as he bunches my dress up around my hips and nimbly administers a clean tear in my panties. I moan in angst, in tortured pleasure as one of his digits enters me from behind. Every movement scorches the engorged, soft flesh; I simultaneously clutch on his biceps and struggle to release him from his jeans. When the catch finally gives way, I reach right into the fabric of whatever he has underneath and sigh into his mouth as I caress him. Steel laden in velvet, I work the strong column with my fingers and palm the thick head until his breaths are as heavy as mine, and in turn that one digit inside me is making one slow circuit around and around, stretching me, stroking me.

We're not here for pleasantries. He backs me up against one side of the cold glass and spins me around as I touch it. One arm bands around my front, one knee spreads my legs as far as my panties allow it, and with a hot kiss between my shoulder blades he slams into my center. So forceful, he is, I'm momentarily lifted off my feet. A sound pours out of me caught between a scream and a sigh, and it dies fast as he pounds me into the glass.

The continuous smacks of flesh on flesh, sinfully delicious sound of him grunting as he loses himself inside of me, the muted _thump thump thump_ of the bass of music from the floor of the club. I'm nearly lost in it all when he pulls one of my legs out to the side and somehow slides impossibly deeper still.

And it's the guttural moan, "Yes, Ana. Take all of my cock," that sends me crashing straight into my orgasm. Panting, trembling, mumbling absolute heated nonsense, he is unrelenting. He allows me just a breath on my jellified legs before scooping me up and not so gently dropping me onto the very important looking console. It is even colder than the glass, and a shock to overheated skin. The cool haze of his eyes never faltering from my own he hastily reaches past me to smash a button on the frame, hooks his arms beneath my knees and thrusts right into me. My groan is loud, long; the muscles of my sex writhe at the intrusion of him, and greedily beckon him deeper.

As if of the same mind, he is not satisfied with this. He slides me further down onto the console, my bottom pressing a whole new slew of combinations, and leaning into me now so I feel his whole weight bearing down as he drills into me, punishing plunges that have me clutching onto him for life as I cry out. The fluttering and tingling in my womb bottoms out to an incomparable pressure and just as I chase it, he thrusts upward for a divine friction that sends me spiraling, curling my fingers into the fabric of his button down and rocking my body into his for everything I'm worth, for everything he has.

He follows after me, reaching his own ecstasy with a flurry of wet, methodical pumps, throwing his head back, allowing me the erotic view of his throat as he swallows his groans. When he finishes he releases my legs and takes a step back, straightening his crinkled top, refastening his bottoms. Shakily, still dazed and unsure of my stability, I shift to stand myself, biting back a moan as the torrent of hot liquid rushes down my thigh.

When I am vertical he comes a bit closer, pushing my hair back behind my shoulders and pulling my dress down to acceptable lengths before leaving a long kiss on my forehead and spinning me around to push me out the door. One swift pat on the ass and a slam of the door to the cockpit, and he's gone. The deafening bass swaddles me once more, pulling me into its darkness.

I descend to the ground floor sluggishly, one hand on the banister, one hand held to my abdomen. As the grinning masks acknowledge me, I half-smirk back. I know they see me now. Ruffled, mussed, musky with the scent of him and I. If only they knew how wet I was, purely from the evidence of our coupling.

When I finally emerge from the abyss of the club, frost stings my cheeks, my nose. I reach my car and get right behind the wheel, not having to deal with a locked door. As she purrs to life, I fish my cell out of the cupholder and press the contact right on the homescreen. I close my eyes and enjoy the gentle vibration of the engine, and he picks up on the second ring.

"I forgot to ask what you'd like for dinner."

I can hear his smirk under the familiar unending bass. "You. Home in 20."

"I'll see you then," I smile back.

I pull off as soon as the line dies.


End file.
